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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605778">The Untold Story of a Survivalist</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittcrtragcdy/pseuds/bittcrtragcdy'>bittcrtragcdy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:53:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittcrtragcdy/pseuds/bittcrtragcdy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>October 31st, 2023: Day 0.</p><p>Throughout the years following Kimberley writes journal notes of her journey in the zombie apocalypse and searching for her missing daughter, with the help of her team.</p><p>In this journal, you'll find written notes by Kimberley herself as well as other members of her team. This is their story, and they want it told.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Before You Read</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys! This is my first time posting on this website so excuse me if I mess anything up! This is an original story written by myself and a couple of friends, whose characters you will see pop up throughout the chapters. This first chapter is just an introduction to Kimberley's journal and the final note she left for those that find it, aka YOU. Please read her story, I've spent so much time on this and I've really come to love this character in all of her flaws! Each chapter will have a date title, this represents whatever date it was written on. These dates will vary between 2023 and 2028. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Whom It May Concern, </p><p>If you are reading this I'm probably dead, or I lost this book along the way and you just so happened to find it. Either way, I hope you enjoy my sad tragic tale. Because it is, severely tragic. But who's story isn't when it's the end of the world? The current date is August 15th, 2028, Day 1,749. It’s been almost 5 years since the apocalypse started, and it doesn't look like it’s going away anytime soon. Over the course of this book, you'll meet my friends, my family, my team. We called ourselves "Team Rescue", a team dedicated to staying alive and saving each other. Their story is just as important as mine and deserves to be told. These journal entries are dedicated to them, for Bree, Charlotte, Syd, Maxie, and Andrei. This is our story and please I'm begging you, if it is truly over, or if I'm truly dead. Spread this. Share it. Get it out there that we survived, maybe not all of us, but some. And please carry on our legacy. I hope the new world is better than the last one.</p><p>Yours Sincerely,</p><p>Kimberley Rodriquez</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. November 14th, 2023</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 14.</p>
<p>We meet our main character Kimberley "K" Rodriquez and understand, just slightly, the struggles of a young mom trying to survive the apocalypse whilst also keeping her daughter safe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heya guys! Chapter 1 is finished and complete! Understand the difficulty I struggled with when writing early-apocalypse K when most of her story takes place in 2024/2025, later on into the apocalypse. As I go through writing these journal entries I will start to get a better look at K's character and who she as a person is and was, and I hope you do too :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I always thought the idea of a “diary” or “journal” was stupid, or useless. I mean who are you talking to? Your future self? As if a Future-Me would ever look back on these sheets of paper and think fond memories. If anything this little book will just be a reminder of the life I left behind or a reminder to anyone who finds it how shit life was during the “apocalypse”. Because let’s be honest, we’re not getting out of this alive. Anna knows something is wrong, she just doesn’t know what. She’s too young for this, she has her whole life ahead of her. Oh, another thing I hate about journals: you need to introduce everyone like they’re a character entering the stage for the first time. If this was for my future self, wouldn’t I already know everyone in the story? </p>
<p>For those reading who don’t know though, Anna is my 4-year-old daughter. She’s hyperactive and artistic and has probably almost got us killed 10 times in the last 2 weeks. But I love her with all my heart and she’s probably the only reason survival is even an option. I just want the best for her and her future, not that I would want her to have one in this dystopian society. She was diagnosed with ADHD just before the outbreak, possibly the worst timing ever although I’m used to bad timing. I won’t get into the sob story that is my childhood, or even how I am a 20 year old with a 4-year-old. Maybe I will later, or at some point in this book, but for right now just understand that all I want is the best for my daughter. If that means traveling the country in search of supplies then I will fucking do it because she is the light of my life, my joy, a good thing that came out of something really bad. I bought her this bunny for her birthday earlier this year and I don’t think she has let the thing out of her sight since. I like to think it stops this from feeling too real, too “scary”. Because the truth is that I’m scared. I don’t let her see the tears or the fear in my eyes but I pray every night to whatever God there is that she is safe. I can’t even think about when we begin to run out of supplies. I don’t even carry a weapon, I don’t want to scare her. Those “things” scare me so much. I recognized one of them as an old classmate the other day and I think I puked in my mouth a little.</p>
<p>I guess this would usually be the part where I “sign off”. But this is probably just the beginning of a million journal entries and you couldn’t care less about my goodbye on this insignificant day. I’m going to do it anyway. Maybe so I can fill out the rest of this page or maybe because if there is one thing I can control in this world, it is what I write in this silly little book.</p>
<p>It’s 9:03 pm on November 14th, 2023, Day 14. Anna is sound asleep beside me in this little hut we managed to find after finally leaving our home a week ago. Tonight I will kiss her forehead goodnight and pray that we both wake up in the morning. If anything, just please let her wake up.</p>
<p>Yours Sincerely,</p>
<p>Kimberley Rodriquez</p>
<p>P.S. Despite my probable guarded nature in the journal entries you might possibly go on to read, I want you to know how grateful I am that someone, if anyone, is spending the time to read my story. Without you, my journey would be lost, burned in a fire or found hidden in a dark damp library someday for someone, anyone to find. They might look at it and laugh at the childish scribbles along the page as my pen runs out of ink, or how my daughter draws her bunny at the bottom of each page before she goes to bed each night. They may just think “Oh what a silly story” and not know the truth behind the tale. But please let them know… This is as real as it gets.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. December 25th, 2023</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 55.</p><p>We find out more about K and her backstory. Where she comes from and how she got to where she is. </p><p>She still seems to be hiding something...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! So I haven't proof-read this chapter yet so forgive me if it doesn't really make sense I kind of wrote it on a whim :) I hope this chapter will help some of you understand more about K and who she is when we see her in this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I would say “Merry Christmas” but it’s not been a very merry Christmas this year. Anna’s growing weaker by the day and we’re running out of supplies, fast. I always do without so she can eat, she needs it more than I do anyway. We keep stocked up on water from the abandoned houses we scavenge but it’s a limited resource, eventually, we’re going to run out. She sees me writing in this book and asks me what I am doing, I tell her “I’m sharing our story with the world.” She always asks me “but who will read it?” and, if I’m being honest I have no idea. I tell her “somebody” but I can’t guarantee that. I can't guarantee that we will live even another day, but I must. Even just for her.</p><p>I feel as though if you are reading this then you will probably want to know more about me? More about Anna? There really isn't much to know, but I’ll break down the basics: My mother died when I was young. Cancer, that’s what they said. My father couldn’t cope. He tried his hardest, I know he did. But I was just too much work without Mom to help him. So he put me up for adoption. I haven’t seen him since I was 10, that’s when the Rodriquez’s adopted me. They took me in as if I was their own, it was perfect. I lived with them until I was 17 when I dropped out of high school. I had no choice really, I couldn’t afford to go to school and look after Anna. They paid for a small apartment for us, just right across from where I worked: this small old-style cafe where regulars were always old white men who believed that just because I worked there, they could treat me like trash. I made some friends you could say I guess, not many but who even knows where they are now. If any of them are even still alive.</p><p>If you want to know why I and Anna aren’t with my parents now, well I’m sure you can guess what happened? I was on the phone with my mom, her and my dad were frantically panicking: they’re retired and had no other family but me. I tried to calm them down, told them that it would attract noise but they were too far gone. It was too late before I noticed the walker in the living room, where my mom and dad were. The phone dropped and all I could hear was my parents struggling and screaming as they were eaten alive. I’m not gonna spare you the gore because there will be much more in this book I’m guessing. Once Anna and I were packed, I used the last remaining gas I had in my car to drive us to my parents' house. The roads were crazy that day, people running around and yelling. I put on some music I think, to try and block out the noise: we had enough to be worried about. We arrived at my parents' house at midnight November 1st, Day 1. The door was cracked wide open and the surrounding area seemed to be barricaded, attempts put in place by the government in most places until about a month ago. It had only been an hour or so since my parents were attacked so they hadn’t had the chance to turn yet, though at this point we had no idea how long it would take for someone to turn, heck we still don’t.</p><p>I looked inside and saw my parents struggling to breathe on the floor, parts of their body ripped out - no, bitten out - and I vomited on a small patch of grass outside. I hid Anna behind me as I entered, she didn’t need to see her grandparents like that. They saw me enter, from what I remember. My mom called out my name, her voice raspy. I don’t want to go into too much detail but just know this: I did what I had to. They might not have turned for another 2/3/4 months but I couldn’t risk it. Every day I wonder if I made the right decision. But then I remember my father’s voice, just as raspy as my mother’s, begging and pleading for me to end it. I could see the pain in their eyes, so I went into the kitchen and grabbed the gun. It was only a small handgun, my father had taught me to use after… an incident. I never liked using it, it felt like there was too much power in it for such a small thing.</p><p>I’m sure you can guess what happened next. What always happens when someone has a gun in those zombie apocalypse tv shows or films. I put a pillow over their faces - to quieten the sound of the gun, but mainly so I didn’t have to see their faces as I shot them. Even now I see their faces everywhere I go, on the walkers on the street and even Anna’s sometimes.</p><p>On a happier note, we found a more stable shelter and have been living there for the last couple of weeks. It’s not amazing but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt and I’ll take anything at this point, anything to prevent us from sleeping on the streets and more susceptible to walkers. It’s so cold now that Winter is here I fear we won’t make it through the year. I try not to but I do.</p><p>It’s now 11:09 pm on December 25th, 2023, Day 55. Anna is once again sound asleep, I’m glad she is able to: we have a long day ahead of us. Heck, we always have a long day ahead of us. She looks so peaceful with the bunny tucked under her arm. She never gave her a name but I hear her talking to her every now and then when we’re on the road. She calls her “Mrs. Bunny” and reassures her that everything will be okay. She is so much stronger than me.</p><p>Yours Sincerely,</p><p>Kimberley Rodriquez</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. January 16th, 2024</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 79.</p><p>We finally find out what K is hiding. Sort of...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, sorry for the lack of posting! I've been so busy with studying for exams that I completely forgot I had a chapter half-written in my documents! It's currently 2 am and I haven't proof-read this so pls excuse any grammar or spelling errors!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Happy New Year? It has been over 2 months since the beginning of the “apocalypse” and it is safe to say - I don’t think it’s ending anytime soon. Anna is still safe, which is all that matters, but every time I look at her all I can see is her small brittle bones and the bags under her eyes. She's so young, I don’t think she will last much longer. I carry her on my back as much as I can, but even I fall weak some days. She’s very talkative for her age so her voice keeps me from going insane. It’s how they diagnosed her. Her kindergarten teacher told me she had never had a student as talkative and hyperactive as Anna - I just assumed that’s how all kids were her age? I mean, it’s not like I had done a load of research on the behavior of toddlers. She suggested I get Anna tested for “Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder” - ADHD for you normal people. I had heard of the term, a few of my classmates had it - back when I still attended school So I got her tested, and what do you know - she has it! Now, this was back when we were oblivious to the world shutting down around us, only briefly though. I remember calling my parents and asking them about it - I mean, I’m only 20 years old how the hell am I supposed to take care of a special needs kid?</p><p>Anyways, not the point. The point is that I struggled, a lot. Especially those 9 months I was pregnant, God they were probably the worst of my life - and that is saying something considering the circumstances. I was only 15 - young and naive - although that didn’t stop the millions of classmates torturing me day-by-day. They would call me a “slut”, saying they couldn’t believe I let myself get knocked up at such a young age - how I deserved whatever I got. Did I fucking deserve this, huh? If I’m being completely honest I really hope all my classmates are dead. It might seem grim but they put me through hell, they deserve the same back. To let you in on a secret - I did not let myself get knocked up. It still pains me to think of that night - I still remember it so vividly, even to this day. I won’t go into specifics right now, but I’m sure you’ll be able to guess what happened. What always happens to young impressionable naive girls who are left alone at high school parties. Although, after 9 months of torture and hell I ended up with the most beautiful baby girl - so who’s laughing now? I named her Anna after my birth mother - it’s all I truly knew about her. I keep her picture on my phone - or at least, I used to. Anna reminds me so much of her, from what I remember from my childhood. She used to wear this ring that had a “P” engraved on it, that I do remember. She would always tell me the story about how she met my dad and he gave her that ring - the “P” representing his name, Presley. I never knew my old surname - they just call you by your first name in the foster homes I’ve been in - surnames don’t matter when you don’t have a family.</p><p>Enough of the angsty flashback, although I would much rather be back in that horrible high school classroom that out here - on a street I don’t recognize, in a town I’ve never been to. It’s hard - keeping direction. One minute I swear I know where we are going and the next I realize we just looped around a block. I don’t know where we are or where we’re going, but I must keep Anna safe.</p><p>It’s almost midnight on January 16th, 2024, Day 79. Anna is laying covered in an old blanket I found whilst out scavenging one day. She’s sleeping peacefully, I think. She reminds me every day of the man who hurt me but then I see my face in hers and I remind myself that she’s a gift - not a curse. I’m not sure what time of day it is for whoever is reading this but I hope you have a better day than us.</p><p>Yours Sincerely,</p><p>Kimberley Rodriquez</p>
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